


Clone 81270

by OutlandishLuminary



Category: Original Work
Genre: Clones, Distopian Society, Modern Era, Original Character(s), POV Second Person, Teaching, illiterate, naming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 14:12:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8147060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutlandishLuminary/pseuds/OutlandishLuminary
Summary: The market for organs has grown. The secret of cloning is unlocked, and large companies start creating clones for organ transplants.The Harvest is coming. But you've decided not to die.You are Clone 81270, and you're going to escape.





	1. The Beginning

The door clicks shut, and your world once again consists of this sterile room and its inhabitants. Four others share this room with you, but you know that there are hundreds more throughout this facility. Just a bunch of walking talking organ sacks. None of you have names. Why would you need them? After all, the Harvest is almost here. No one knows quite what the Harvest is, but you can guess. After all, what use are organs if they're in use?

The other four are all sleeping now. You all have cots by the wall. The lights snap off, leaving you in total darkness. It used to scare you. But now you know that the real monsters don't hide in the dark. 

You make a decision that night. One of the only decisions you have ever made. 

You are _not_ dying in the Harvest.


	2. Chapter 2

The lights snap back on, and you bolt upright. Force of habit. The men in the white lab coats open the door and begin their daily checks. "Harvest's tonight, Jim. I hope Susan comes to work, otherwise we're going to have to fill in." "Extra hours, whoopee. This is gonna be a mess. I kinda feel sorry for the people who hafta clean up this place." "Hey, bet they get well paid." The men finish their checks and stand up to leave. You and the other four move back to your cots. "Anything interesting today, Paul?" "Nope. Same as usual. Healthy, healthy, healthy." The door clicks shut. 

No one visits for the rest of the day. When the lights would normally snap off, the entire back wall rises up into the ceiling. The four are asleep. The men with the labcoats, followed by men in paper suits, roll the cots out of the room through the missing wall. You see parts of the facility that you never saw before. Rooms with glass for walls and tables with papers. Ceilings higher than three of you. Rooms larger than you had ever seen, filled with tables and surgical equipment. Oh. This was the Harvest. Some of the others are already on the tables. Slots drain their blood into bags. You know that the men hate having to sort the bags by blood type. They complain about it every year. 

But you decided not to die.

And so you won't. 

As the others are being led over to their respective tables, you break into a sprint. 

"Hey!" 

You wind your way through twisting hallways and seemingly random clearings, just looking for a way out. There! You dart through the open door and into a world of light and smells.


End file.
